Warrior's Wisdom
by dragonwriter24cmf
Summary: Cartagia dies. G'kar collapses. T'lon is there to catch him as he falls. And take him somewhere safe to heal. Which is how he winds up taking care of the most important man on the planet...and giving him some good advice.
1. Chapter 1

Warrior's Wisdom

**Summary:** Cartagia dies. G'kar collapses outside the Centauri palace, and T'lon is there to pick him up. After realizing the other man's battered condition, he takes him to the safest place he can think of...his own house. Which is how he ends up nursing the most influential man on the planet...and giving him some good advice.

**Chapter One: Fateful Day**

T'lon stood still, and resisted the urge to shift his weight. He had been here, in the long corridor that led to the main Centauri palace, for the entire night, and a part of the day prior. He was tired of standing, and he was hungry. But he had sworn he would be here, and so he was. And so he would remain, until his purpose was carried out.

He watched the red sun rise through the windows. His heart sped up just a fraction. It was beginning. Today, the hopes of his people would be shattered, or saved. Most likely shattered, he knew.

Today was the day of the public execution of one Citizen G'kar, last surviving member of the Ka'Ri. Former Narn Ambassador to Babylon 5.

He had come himself, and come early, in order to be sure of being in a place where he could clearly see G'kar when the man was brought to Cartagia. He needed to be there, a part of an oath he had sworn to himself, and to G'kar, though G'kar did not know it. A blood oath, as binding and sacred as an oath before G'quan's altar.

When the Centauri had attacked and invaded their world, G'kar had counseled patience, and peace, and passive resistance. He had thought it coward's talk, like so many of his people. Until he had met G'kar, watched him, listened to him speak. And then...

G'kar's courage had astounded him. His willingness to face anything and everything, regardless of personal cost. His eloquence in speaking for himself. The truth had been all too evident in his words when he pointed out what silence gained them, in help and safety and needed supplies and lives spared. So had the truth when he pointed out the consequences of rash action and violence taken too quickly and without thought.

As a warrior, T'lon himself understood the tactics and advantages to delaying one's strike. But he had not thought to see that understanding in an Ambassador, a politician. Much less see the courage and strength of will to hold one's ground, when literally an entire world stood against him. But G'kar had it. Had courage and wisdom and foresight and strength. Had G'kar been a warrior trained, he would have been the mightiest of sword bearers.

He had challenged G'kar, to test his premise. And G'kar had not disappointed him. Faced with a drawn ka'toc, he had not quailed. Had not retreated. He had only snarled in outrage that T'lon would force violence upon him, while knowing where he stood. Only scowled, and dared T'lon to cut his throat, if he was sure that his conviction of what must be done was an act of cowardice.

He remembered his words to G'kar that day. _'Your sword...is in your heart, and no one can take it from you.'_ And in those words, he had admitted that G'kar had become the second man in his life to whom he would give his loyalty, and trust with his honor. John Sheridan, the human who had saved him from the alien prison and it's torments, had been the first. G'kar's honor and strength burned every bit as bright as the human's, and won his respect no less completely.

That was why he had bathed his blade in his own blood, and sworn an oath to serve G'kar as he served Sheridan. To protect him, to fight by his side, to defend his honor. He had failed in that, when G'kar had left the station without him. But then, G'kar had been the one to ask him to stay, to lead the Narns who guarded the station for Sheridan and Garibaldi. He could hardly have refused the request.

But he had remembered his oath, and that was what had brought him here today.

He had heard of G'kar's capture, and rumors that G'kar was held by Cartagia himself. He had heard darker rumors as well. Rumors of what Cartagia did to his captives, the vile cruelty he visited upon them. Rumors of torture, of humiliation and agony and worse. Rumors that made even his battle-hardened nerves crawl.

And so he had come here, to see what had become of G'kar. And to decide what his course of action was to be.

If G'kar had been broken, then he would kill him. Quick, efficient and painless. He hadn't been allowed to bring his sword or his knives into the corridor but that didn't matter. He knew plenty of ways to kill with his bare hands. It would take him less than 10 seconds, if done properly. Of course, he'd probably die shortly after, but he counted it well worth the cost.

If G'kar had not been broken...there was where his conundrum lay. If G'kar had not been broken, what would he do? To send a man like G'kar to die in the manner that Cartagia would most likely choose was almost unthinkable. G'kar deserved a death of honor, and of dignity. If he could not be saved, then he at least deserved to be sent on by one who had a warrior's honor. And if possible, by one who had some measure of respect for him. Cartagia would give him a death not worthy to be given to the lowest of scum.

But then, G'kar knew of fighting, and of dying. A warrior with enough ingenuity and courage could always find a way to die. G'kar most certainly had courage and intelligence enough, if that was to be his choice. Which meant, if he had not broken and he had not yet died, that he had some plan, some choice in the manner of his passing that had yet to be fulfilled. It would be wrong to interfere with that. If G'kar had chosen a manner to die before Cartagia, to end his life in honor, then it was not his place to step in, but rather to wish the warrior well in his final journey, and salute his passing with the respect it deserved.

And if, by some chance, it looked as though G'kar needed help, he could offer that too. To die beside the man, or shield his life, if required.

T'lon took a deep breath. He would wait. When he saw G'kar, he would know.

Time passed. Other Narns joined him. Centauri guards kept an isle clear for the prisoner and his escort to walk through. Behind that barricade, Narns gathered, until no more would fit, until the narrow space was packed with sad faces and mournful whispers.

The sun rose higher. And then he heard it. The slow, ominous, steady thump of a drum. The faint jingle of chains. The shocked and horrified whispers. T'lon felt himself tense, then relax, his body preparing itself to spring forward if needed.

Finally, G'kar came into view. T'lon felt his fists clench in helpless sympathy and rage.

G'kar's once strong frame was emaciated, as though he had been starved. The shirt draped over him was so ripped and torn and filthy that calling it a rag was charitable. His hands were chained to a stock, balanced heavily on shoulders that looked bruised and broken. G'kar's body, what could be seen of it, was covered in blood and dungeon filth, old wounds and new layered over his skin so that it seemed as though no place on him could be unmarked. A rag was tied over one eye, and from the way it lay against his face, T'lon suspected the eye beneath it was gone. He was staggering. He looked weary, and at the end of his strength.

As he watched, G'kar stumbled into the crowd on the opposite side of the corridor from him. Three Narns rushed to help him up. He heard the low murmur of G'kar's voice. He couldn't hear what G'kar said, but he saw clearly the faces of the three who lifted him so gently to his feet.

There was hope, and fragile new courage in their eyes. And determination. Then the guard pulled G'kar back around, sent him stumbling the other direction, and T'lon saw his face.

His remaining eye was fever-bright, but within the fever T'lon saw the flame that he had recognized on Babylon 5. Determination. Strength. Conviction. Courage. G'kar's face was not the face of a broken man, no matter how his body betrayed his tortured barely-alive state. The look in his eye held neither fear of dying nor resignation to it.

G'kar looked like a man preparing for a fight. A warrior preparing for battle.

He had something planned. T'lon could see it in his gaze, in his eye and the set of his jaw. Whether it was the manner of his death, or something far more powerful, something far more audacious, he had no idea. But G'kar most certainly had something planned this day.

He let himself relax, though his fists remained clenched. He would not interfere. Even if G'kar's only plan was to provide a firestorm of fury with his death, he would not interfere. Instead, he saluted the man as he passed. He was on G'kar's blind side, and doubted the Narn saw him. It didn't matter.

G'kar stumbled onward, shoved through the doors into the Centauri palace. T'lon watched him go. He had no doubts about how this day would end, really. He was too pragmatic to believe it would end in anything other than G'kar's death, most likely a painful and humiliating death. But he would remember G'kar's courage. He would stand witness to G'kar's final stand, to his final actions. He would be the man's honor guard, though G'kar knew it not. He would remain, until the thing was done and the body disposed of. And whether the Centauri tossed it in a garbage heap to degrade G'kar's memory, or made an example of him, he vowed he would rescue the remains and give G'kar an honorable burial. And if they burned the body, he would gather the ash. And if there was nothing left to gather, he would say the rites anyway, for the burial of a warrior, and invite the world to speak with him.

However things transpired, he would see that the Narn people, and the humans whom G'kar had cared for on Babylon 5, knew of his passing, and marked it as the death of a courageous and honorable man. A man worthy of respect, of song and of legend.

The doors closed behind the Centauri guards. T'lon shifted his weight slightly and relaxed, then settled in to wait for whatever transpired.

_**Author's Note: **And so it begins...  
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	2. Chapter 2: Helping Hand

**Chapter Two: Helping Hand**

Minutes ticked past**. **T'lon wished he'd been able to get into the Palace. But that was only permitted by those whom the Emperor chose. He didn't have a rank high enough for the Emperor to notice, and warriors were not permitted inside anyway, lest they threaten Cartagia. He resigned himself to waiting. He wondered if the event would be recorded. It was, after all, supposed to be the final blow to the Narn spirit. The death of the last of their leaders. He hoped there would be a recording, so he could watch and attend G'kar's final hours, even though he could not stand by his side.

Shouts erupted suddenly from the interior of the Palace, so unexpected they startled even him. Even more so when the guards in the corridor responded to some signal he couldn't see and raced inside. He stepped forward to the door, ahead of the other stunned Narns, who were looking at each other and whispering. There were shouts echoing from deep within the Palace, shouts that spoke to him of confusion, panic...and an odd note of excitement. His hands clenched on the door frame.

What was going on? For half a credit he'd have gone inside himself, but he stayed at the door. Whatever it was, rushing in blindly was a good way to get killed. Something was transpiring, what he did not know. Action taken too soon could get himself, and possibly several others, killed. Could perhaps even get G'kar killed.

There was a clatter of metal on stone, and a Centauri guard came flying into his line of vision, followed closely by two Narns. One stationed himself over the guard, the other came rushing toward them. "Quick...we must guard the corridor, and the door. It must be held!"

T'lon caught his arm. "Why? What has happened?"

The Narn's eyes were shining with excitement. "It is G'kar. The Emperor accused him of treason and sentenced him to death by vivisection." T'lon winced, and was certain he was not the only one. That was an ugly death indeed. "But G'kar has broken his chains, and now he fights!"

T'lon stared. How? He had seen the thick chains on G'kar's wrists, the tortured and broken condition of his body. How in G'Quan's name had G'kar managed to shatter those bonds, much less fight? He shook himself. It did not matter.

He released the man. "Return to G'kar and aid him. We will hold this corridor and door for you. If things go ill, bring G'kar here, and I will see him safely away. My word as a warrior on it." He could get G'kar out, and he had enough contacts with Babylon 5 to get both of them off planet and bound for the station within an hour if needed.

The man nodded, then turned and pelted back up the corridor, catching his companion as he did so. Half a dozen Narns from the crowd around T'lon surged forward to follow them. One of them stopped to kick the downed Centauri guard back into unconsciousness. T'lon was tempted to do so himself, but he had sworn to guard the door. That was his task, no matter how he longed to race to G'kar's side. He directed the others to form an honor guard, then set himself to waiting.

Minutes later, there was another outcry from within the Palace. This one sounded distinctly Centauri. T'lon ground his teeth. He was too far away to hear whether the outcry was one of dismay or celebration. He couldn't tell if the Centauri were reacting in terror, or outrage, or if they were reveling in capturing their enemy again. His fist clenched, and he uttered a short prayer to whatever forces in the universe might be listening that the sound was not a sign that G'kar had been recaptured, and was even now being tortured to death.

The time crawled past. There was no sign of the Narns who had gone to aid G'kar, but that did not ease his frustration or his concern at all. For all he knew, the Narns had all been killed trying to protect G'kar. In a riot, the Centauri would show no mercy to those who had helped their prisoner. The only thing that kept him in his place was his own discipline, and the fact that he had not heard G'kar scream. He watched the corridor and swore to himself that if he heard the sound of G'kar's voice raised in pain, he would go to the Narn's side or die trying to reach him.

An hour passed. Then another. The Narns behind him muttered and shifted restlessly, as nervous and concerned as he was. Then, just when he thought his nerves could take no more, just when it seemed that he would be shoved to one side while another group entered the palace, they heard the sound of footsteps. T'lon tensed, waiting to see guards dragging bodies, defeated faces.

A group of Narns turned the corner and came down the hall, some several dozen, far more than had raced to the rescue. Several were sporting wounds, bruises and bloodied lips and cuts. All were emanating a mood of barely restrained exultation. Their eyes were wild with excitement, with blood recently roused to battle. And in their center...

G'kar walked in the center of the group, flanked by his people in what was clearly a protective guard. The heavy stock was gone from his shoulders, though manacles still bound his wrists. There was new blood on his face, and on his hands, but his eye burned with triumphant fire and grim satisfaction. He was staggering slightly, and the Narns on either side of him watched him closely, awe evident in their faces, though neither of them touched him.

T'lon stepped back to allow them out. He could see G'kar was barely standing, his great strength on the verge of giving out. He could also see that the Narns who surrounded G'kar were too awestruck, and too euphoric over whatever had happened to see how near the warrior was to collapse. He waited until G'kar emerged from the Palace door, then spoke. "G'kar."

G'kar's head snapped up, turned, looking for him. T'lon stepped sideways, into G'kar's range of vision, then strode forward. G'kar stared at him. "T'lon."

"Indeed." he moved through the final ring of guards, to stand at G'kar's side. Up close, G'kar stunk of sweat and old blood and worse. But it seemed so insignificant, compared to the strength in his eye.

G'kar stared at him. "I left you on Babylon 5. With Sheridan." His voice was hoarse and broken, a mere whisper of it's usual deep rumble.

"Yes. And now I have left my lieutenant in charge, and come here." He met G'kar's gaze. "Sheridan knows where I am. He even gave me a ship, in case I needed to leave the planet quickly."

G'kar nodded. "Why are you here?"

T'lon exhaled. "Because I swore an oath. Because I had heard of your...predicament, and of what was meant to transpire here today." He offered a thin smile. "You didn't think I would let you face this alone, did you?"

G'kar shook his head. "I did not know what to think. But I confess, I did not expect to see you here. And your presence is...comforting." He was trembling, and exhaustion was fast replacing the fire in his eye.

"Indeed. But tell me G'kar...I saw you led to your death, not three hours hence. What have you done?" he had to know. As much as he knew he needed to get G'kar somewhere safe, he had to know.

A grim, dark laugh broke from G'kar's chest. "What indeed? I do not know that I did anything. But no matter. Cartagia is dead. Londo Mollari is now Prime Minister, and ruler of the Centauri, for the moment. And he has declared that the Centauri are leaving. That we are too much trouble. That we have cost them two rulers, and he wishes not to be the third. And so...Cartagia is dead, and we have gained our freedom."

T'lon felt as if the air had been knocked from his lungs. Freedom. After all this time...after all the death and the enslavement... "You are sure they are leaving?"

Something bitter and anguished moved under the smile on G'kar's face, mirrored in a spark of madness in his eye. "Oh yes, I am sure. As sure as I have ever been of anything."

Wild elation filled T'lon. So did a deeper, darker understanding. G'kar knew more of what was transpiring than he had said. There was more to this than the death of an Emperor, and the cowardice of a Centauri. Much more. He recalled the battle light he had seen in G'kar's eye when the man had stumbled on the road to his execution. The death of the Emperor Cartagia was not unexpected to G'kar. Nor was their new-found freedom. Why that was true, T'lon had no idea, but he knew in his heart that it was.

He also knew it didn't matter. G'kar was trembling even more now, and his eye was hazing over with exhaustion and pain. The emaciated body was swaying slightly. He was on the verge of collapse. He needed to be taken somewhere safe, to have his wounds treated and the filth cleaned from his body. He needed to rest.

T'lon put the thoughts away for later. "A glorious victory indeed." He offered G'kar a stronger, warmer smile than the previous one. "You have done well, G'kar. As well or better than any warrior I have ever known." He pressed a hand to his heart and bowed. "Congratulations on your victory. And now..." he straightened, and held out his hand. "You must rest."

G'kar blinked. "T'lon..."

"You need rest. Every warrior rests after the battle, G'kar. Come with me, and I will see that you are tended to."

G'kar blinked again. "But there is still so much to do...we have a world to rebuild...and the Centauri..." His words were slurring together, his voice weaker.

"The Centauri have enough on their minds, and you have said they are leaving. The world will take time to rebuild, and can certainly wait a few days. It has waited over a year already. And you will accomplish all that you desire much more efficiently if you are rested and healed first. Besides...it will take time for the word to spread, and be believed, that we are free again. By the time the people need a leader, you will be ready to be that for them. In the meantime...come now. It is time to rest."

G'kar swayed again. "I..."

T'lon sighed. "Do you not trust me?"

A thin smile crossed G'kar's face. "I have trusted you with my life before."

"Then trust me once more, G'kar." He held out his hand again.

"I...yes. Very well." G'kar took one step forward. Then his knees buckled and he collapsed.

T'lon caught the Narn as he fell, catching his arm to swing around his shoulders. He had expected G'kar's fall, honestly. Given his condition, it was a miracle G'kar had gotten as far as he had. Point of fact, it was a miracle that G'kar was even alive at all. He pulled the thin, battered frame a little more securely against his shoulder. G'kar's head lolled, and he suspected the other had finally lost his tenuous hold on consciousness. Which was all to the good, as far as T'lon was concerned.

One of the Narns crowding close spoke up. "Is he...?"

"He will be fine, with rest. I shall see to it that his wounds are tended." He shifted G'kar's weight, a little alarmed at how little the other weighed, and thought. He had come alone, and via public transportation, and on foot. But he felt it best if G'kar was taken to a private place to recover. He deserved at least that much peace, and dignity, given what he had so obviously suffered. And what he had achieved. So...his own house. But he would need a way to transport the Narn there.

"How may we assist you and the honored citizen?" Another Narn was pressing forward.

T'lon pounced on the offer. "I am in need of a vehicle. I will take him somewhere private to rest and recover. Somewhere the Centauri cannot find him." he left it unspoken that he didn't want the Narns to find G'kar too soon either.

Another Narn stepped forward, eyes eager. "I have a transport. I am an inspections officer. I travel often. My vehicle has a full load of fuel, and can take you anywhere you wish to go."

T'lon smiled. "Excellent. Show me to it, please."

The Narn nodded and turned down the access corridor toward the outside. T'lon lifted G'kar a little higher in his arms. Under normal circumstances, he might have slung the unconscious body over his shoulders, or into his arms. But G'kar deserved as much dignity as he could give him. So...He pulled G'kar's arm a little tighter over his shoulder, and stepped forward.

It took them twenty minutes to find the vehicle. T'lon's shoulder was aching by then, but he gave no sign. Instead he listened as the other gave him the pass-codes to the vehicle, promised to see that it was returned, then stepped forward to lay his burden inside. Fortunately, inspector vessels were made with some accommodations for comfort, since their owners traveled great distances, and often slept in their transports. The passenger seat where he deposited G'kar's body was even cushioned somewhat, a mercy for the battered, tortured frame. The Narn whose vehicle he was appropriating helped him tuck the limp figure into the seat, then snap the restraints around him. He checked them one last time, then straightened. "Thank you."

The inspector nodded. "I am honored to serve." His eyes tracked to the motionless figure in the seat, then he saluted, bowing with his fist to his heart. "Rest well, Citizen G'kar." His eyes came back to T'lon. "Tend him well, warrior."

T'lon dropped his head in a quick bow. "I shall." Then he strode to the opposite side of the vehicle and climbed in. A touch and quick keying of the override code brought it roaring to life. The other Narns backed away, and he took off, carrying his precious burden with him.

_**Author's Note: **So...G'kar has been rescued. How do you think T'lon will react when he sees what G'kar has gone through? And how is he going to handle G'kar's wounds?_


	3. Chapter 3: Nursing the Wounded

**Chapter Three: Nursing the Wounded**

An hour later, T'lon stopped the small transport just outside the doors to his home. He shut everything down carefully, then turned to look at his passenger. G'kar had not moved once during the whole drive, other than the swaying induced by turns and gravity. Only the light, rasping breathing gave any sign that the Narn was alive. T'lon sighed, then unsnapped his own restraints and came around to pull G'kar out of the vehicle.

Alone in front of his house, he pulled G'kar's body into his arms. The door to his home answered to his voice command password and he stepped inside.

It was a small home, a bedroom, bathroom, small kitchen and a front room. It wasn't all that different from his quarters on Babylon 5, really, and the size and simple furnishings suited him. He considered it a moment, then carried G'kar to the back room and placed him on the bed. He took a moment to remove his heavy outer jacket, then went back to the front room, to the communications screen he had there. He thought a moment, then keyed in the code he wanted.

There was a second or two of crackle, then a familiar face appeared. "Healer G'vak."

"Warrior T'lon." The healer inclined his head. "How may I serve?"

T'lon smiled. He liked G'vak. The healer was blunt and straightforward. He was also good at tending wounds, and at keeping secrets. "I have a guest who requires both your services and your discretion."

G'vak nodded, understanding without words that T'lon meant he was to come alone. "Shall I need the basic kit or the full one?"

"Oh, the full one, undoubtedly." Just G'kar's eye would require more than basic medicine, never mind what other wounds the Narn bore. And if G'kar didn't have at least one bone that required resetting, he'd eat his own war vest raw. "And extra supplies, I suspect."

Interest sparked in G'vak's eyes, but the healer only nodded. "Understood. I shall come as soon as I have the necessary equipment collected." T'lon indicated his agreement, and the healer cut the connection.

T'lon sighed, then went to the kitchen and collected a bowl, towels, and a small knife. Then he returned to the bedroom.

G'kar lay as he had left him, only the rise and fall of his chest assured that he lived still. T'lon watched him a moment, then laid his burden to the side and began to carefully remove G'kar's clothing.

The boots were in decent condition, far better than the rest of G'kar's clothing, or his person. It startled him that the Narn even still had boots, but that mystery was at least partially solved when he removed them. G'kar's feet were cut and abraded. Wearing boots must have felt like have acid dipped metal files rubbing across his skin. Cartagia was certainly sadistic enough to visit that torment upon his prisoner. He set the boots aside, resolved to giving them a thorough cleaning. Or several.

The pants might be salvageable, but as filthy and blood covered as they were, he doubted they were worth the effort. He planned to consign them, and the shirt, to the rag pile. Or an incinerator. He drew the knife from his belt, then began to cut away the rags of the shirt.

G'kar's breathing hitched as he drew the ragged cloth out from under his back. Scarred and battered hands clenched, a look of helpless agony stamping itself on the Narn's features. T'lon paused, startled by the reaction. _What has happened, to evoke such a response?_ But now was not the time to seek an answer. Instead, he laid a hand on G'kar's shoulder. "Peace. You are safe."

G'kar relaxed, just a little. T'lon breathed a quiet huff of relief, then continued to strip away the rank clothing. He half expected another outburst as he removed the lower half of G'kar's clothing, but the Narn remained quiet. _Interesting. He either trusts my assurance completely, or the association is only for his shirt. But why should the forcible removal of his upper garments cause so much distress, when the lower does not? _He set the question out of his mind. He had other things to worry about.

The chains on G'kar's wrists needed to be removed. That would require a lock pick. Or a very careful application of force. He had skill in both, though lock picking was not his greatest of talents. He fetched a small probe, and went to work, hoping he wouldn't need to take his sword to the blasted things.

He was fortunate. The chains were solid and strong, the manacles thick, but the lock was an old fashioned one, meant for a key. Well, the Centauri always had favored old traditions. In this case, it worked in his favor. He probed, prodded, and was rewarded after several minutes with a click. The second one was just as easy. Still, he winced as he tugged the shackles open. The metal had rubbed raw patches in G'kar's arms and cut into his wrists, so much that the blood had practically glued the bands to him. The freeing of his hands broke scabs in several places, sending fresh blood dripping over the thin wrists. T'lon grimaced as the blood fell onto his sheets, then turned his gaze to the rest of G'kar's body.

He had been right in his original thought. Very little of G'kar remained unmarked by Cartagia's cruelty. He took the bowl to his bathing chamber, filled it with warm water, and returned. Under better circumstances, he might have simply carried G'kar to the bathing chamber, but seeing him, he wanted to move the fallen warrior no more than he had to. The sheets could be cleaned, or replaced, but G'vak would be long in forgiving him if he caused G'kar more injuries. He sighed, then bent forward and began to wash the grime and old blood away, cataloging the wounds as he went.

G'kar's head was marked with long irregular jagged cuts, and haphazard burn patterns, in various stages of healing. The oldest marks were weeks old scars, the newest barely healed past the scabbing stage. His face was a mass of bruises and split skin, layered over one another, a testament to more than one brutal beating. The eye, as he'd suspected, was gone. T'lon sponged the blood away carefully, frowning as he traced a spot that might be a badly healed fracture in G'kar's jaw, and the evidence of a broken nose. He wondered how many teeth his compatriot had lost in those beatings. His throat was bruised as well.

There was evidence that both shoulders had been dislocated, wrenched from their sockets and then forced back into place. G'kar's wrists were the same. In between the flesh was bruised, rubbed raw, slashed and burned and lacerated. From shoulder to fingertips, his arms showed the marks of torture. It was clear that several of his fingers and the bones in his hands had been broken at some point. The pale fragile feel of the inner skin of his arms made it seem as if someone had peeled the skin off of them, and the new flesh had only recently grown back.

T'lon scowled at the wounds, and hoped his mind was running away with him.

G'kar's chest and abdomen were no better. The scars, healed and half-healed, were so layered that it was hard to tell just what atrocities had been visited upon the Narn, aside from broken ribs and, he suspected, bruised internal organs. But there was clear evidence of burns, and cuts, and wounds that he knew he didn't want to know how they had been made.

He was going to dump his third bowl of water when the door of his house chimed. "Enter."

The door opened, and G'vak walked in, drawing with him a large case. "Warrior T'lon. My apologies for the delay."

T'lon nodded. "No matter. I'm still cleaning him up."

G'vak stared at him. "You wash his wounds?" For a warrior to perform such a servant's work for another was a mark of high favor.

T'lon nodded. "He is unconscious. And he is worthy of the honor." He went and refilled the bowl, then gestured. "In the bedroom."

G'vak followed him, then stopped, eyes registering his shock. "That is...Citizen G'kar!"

"Indeed." T'lon felt his lips twist in a sympathetic smile. G'vak no doubt felt as astounded as he had, only short hours ago.

"I thought he was to be executed by the Centauri today." G'vak's expression was still stunned.

"Indeed. I went to the execution. I intended to rescue his remains for an honorable burial." T'lon returned to his task of washing away the grime. It seemed G'kar's lower body had fared somewhat better than his upper, though there were still marks of hideous wounds, burns and cuts. "Instead, he managed to break free."

"He broke free?"

"Quite. And that is not all. Somehow in the process, the Emperor Cartagia was killed, and the Centauri came to the decision to leave Narn forever. Or so I have been told. His last words to me were that he was sure it was one oath that the Centauri planned to keep. That we have, apparently, become too costly for them."

"The mad emperor dead, and Homeworld freed?" G'vak exhaled slowly. "Worthy of honor indeed. This man should have the best of physicians, rooms in the estates of the highest of the Kha'Ri...servants lined up to tend him..."

"Yes, yes. So he should. But I know G'kar. And so I know that he would prefer silence and privacy to fawning and luxury. And I know that you will keep his presence here secret, and that you can tend his wounds well. And that shall be enough." T'lon finished his work, then set the bowl to one side. "That is, of course, unless you've changed your mind about tending him."

"I have not." G'vak gave him a thin smile, the flung his case open to reveal the contents. "Let me examine him, and then I will heal him as best I can. Though I may need your assistance."

T'lon offered back an equally grim smile with no humor. "I live to serve."

G'vak nodded, then turned back to G'kar and began to look him over, scanner in one hand a tablet for notes in the other. "Lost eye. Severe lacerations, abrasions, burns, broken bones...he must be suffering from severe blood loss, based on this. He has clearly been starved, and dehydrated too, from the state of his mouth and his skin." the healer continued his examination, detailing the ever-growing list of wounds. Finally, he stopped and looked up. "Help me turn him over."

T'lon reached across his bed, gripped G'kar's shoulder, and gently turned him over.

G'vak made a strangled sound in his throat. "G'quan preserve us..." T'lon nodded, feeling his stomach roil.

He had not had a chance to look at G'kar's back. He wished he could not see it now.

As with his arms and torso, scars layered over each other. The marks of burns and old whippings were bad enough. But it was the newest set of wounds that caused T'lon to curse softly.

39 marks, so recently cut they were not fully healed. Some of them were light, barely worse than a regular whip's lash. But some...it looked as if the flesh had been ripped from his back, and the edges of the gash melted and seared behind it. And the marks cut deep, almost to the spine. As if G'kar's back had been repeatedly gouged by lightning.

He could not imagine the pain G'kar had endured, with these wounds. And with the way the scored flesh cut into the muscle beneath it, it seemed impossible that he had broken the chains as he had. It must have been agony beyond bearing.

He took a deep breath, regained mastery of himself. "Can you heal him?"

G'vak snorted. "Heal him? I can tend his wounds. But there is nothing to be done for his eye, save to make certain there is no infection and the wound is properly sealed. And this..." he gestured to the unconscious Narn's back. "This may be beyond even the skills of the greatest of healers. I can only make him comfortable, and tend the wounds so that they heal properly, as best they may. I can give him medicine to recover his strength, to ease his pain. I can tell you what he needs to recover. But to heal him...nothing will fully heal him, Warrior T'lon. At least, no medicine of Narn." There was bitterness in his voice, the bitterness born of hopelessness.

T'lon nodded. "As you say. Do the best you can." His eyes slipped to a small card he had taken from his jacket. "When he is better, if it is needed, I will return with him to Babylon 5. He has friends among the humans and Minbari, or at least those who owe him favors. If we can not heal him enough, they might succeed. But first..." He shrugged his shoulders, then met the healer's gaze. "He is Narn, and he is ours, and our people need him here for the moment. And so...you and I, we will do what we can."

G'vak nodded, then straightened his shoulders. "As you say, Warrior T'lon. As you say." He turned back to his patient, then removed his outer jacket. "I will need your assistance. There are bones that must be reset, among other things."

T'lon shifted to the other side of his bed. "Only tell me what is needed. I am no healer, but I shall do my best."

G'vak turned back from his case holding some syringes. He studied G'kar's frame, then injected the contents of two into the unconscious figure. "That should keep him asleep and unaware. I do not need him moving." he turned back, withdrawing instruments from his case in a methodical, measured pace. "I shall need some bowls of clean water, and a small table, and some cloths. And I need you to turn him back over. I think it best to begin with his eye." T'lon bowed his head, and left to gather the necessary supplies.

G'kar's eye was every bit as bad as T'lon thought it would be. The eye was completely gone, the eye socket gouged as if someone had simply used a knife to carve it out of his face. And there was an infection starting in the damaged flesh, no doubt part of the reason for the fever, G'kar was running. T'lon held G'kar's head still as G'vak cleansed the wound, cleaned away the infection, sealed the nerves and blood vessels to the eye, packed anti-septics and healing salve into the wound, then bound a clean bandage over it. T'lon watched. "You know, I believe I had best get the good citizen patch for that."

G'vak smiled, grim humor in his eyes. "Indeed. A bandage is hardly worthy of a man of his stature. But I have some. When he is well, I will bring them for him to choose from."

"Thank you." T'lon released G'kar's head as the healer straightened. "What next?"

G'vak frowned. "He needs medicine for the bruised organs. Then the bones must be reset. Then the surface wounds must be treated. After that, I will decide what he needs for nutrients and to stave off infections." his ungloved hand touched G'kar's head. "And to reduce that fever."

"As you wish." T'lon took a deep breath. He had a feeling he knew what his next role would be, and he did not relish it. "Show me what to do."

The next few hours were trying beyond any he had ever known. Medicine was administered, to ascertain that G'kar's abused internal organs were working properly. Fortunately, G'kar was extremely sturdy even by Narn standards. There was no internal bleeding, though G'vak recommended soft bland foods for a time.

After that, they tended to G'kar's bones. Some of the breaks had set and healed more or less correctly, enough so that G'vak saw no reason to do anything besides encourage their healing. Several more though, needed resetting. T'lon applied his strength to the task, and tried not to think about the sound and feel of G'kar's bones breaking in his hands. He was glad that both he and G'vak were of a pragmatic, stoic nature. He was also glad when the task was done, and relieved that G'vak took the precaution of dosing G'kar with more pain and sleeping medication halfway through.

The hours spent binding G'kar's wounds were more tedious than anything else. Tedious, and infuriating. Especially the wounds on his back. Smoothing healing salves into the deep gouges only made it more obvious how severe G'kar's suffering had been.

Finally, the wounds were cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged where necessary. The stiff splints to keep G'kar from shifting his healing bones were set. T'lon had no clothing that would fit G'kar, but G'vak had brought several long loose robes in anticipation of just such a problem. They clothed the wounded Narn in one of those, loose enough not to catch on the bandages. T'lon moved G'kar to the front room and helped G'vak change the filthy, bloodied bed covers, then brought G'kar back in and laid him on the bed, covering him with a thick blanket. Then he and G'vak left the room and retired to the table in his dining area.

T'lon poured drinks, then carried them to the table and settled himself across from G'vak. "What shall we do with him now?"

G'vak grimaced. "He must rest and allow those wounds to heal. The bones must set themselves. His body must replenish itself. He is badly dehydrated and starved, and it will slow his healing. He needs food, water, and most of all, rest. Complete rest. He must not move too much, especially these first few days."

T'lon sighed. "He will not like that. It was a fight just to get him to come this far with me, and I only won because he passed out." he set his cup down. "And I suspect he will be restless. He was earlier."

G'vak frowned. "I can give you some medicine to keep him asleep, keep him relaxed. But it cannot be for long. He needs to eat and drink to regain what he has lost." He tapped a finger on the table. "I will leave you with 48 hours of sleep medicine. I will also give you a larger supply of muscle relaxants, nutrient doses, pain killers and something to prevent infection and bring down his fever. And some bandages, and wound salve. Keep him on the sleep medicine, change his bandages every ten hours, and give him injections as needed for the rest. Then a half dose of the muscle relaxant, and allow him to awaken on his own terms. After that...whatever you think best, but do not let him move too much too soon. And keep me informed."

"Of course. You will leave instructions, I suppose? I am a warrior, not a healer."

G'vak smiled. "Of course. I will write them out before I leave."

T'lon nodded. "That will work. What do I owe you?"

G'vak shook his head. "Nothing."

T'lon scowled. "Healer G'vak..."

G'vak shook his head again. "I will take no money for his care." He paused. "I do not know what has happened to Citizen G'kar. But I know that he is the last of the Kha'Ri. I know that he is responsible for what aid we have received from other races. The human medicines and Minbari tools did not come here for anyone else. The ships that smuggle refugees to safety are sent by those who respect him. And I have heard the whispers, that he counseled the refugees on Babylon 5 and other places to remain calm. I know how our people would have reacted. That it has been as calm as it has means he won. It also means that there was a price for that."

"There was." T'lon remembered again the proud, strong figure on the walkway of Babylon 5.

G'vak turned to look at the closed bedroom door. "I know this too, Warrior T'lon. He did not come to Cartagia's special attention by accident. No normal prisoner would have been tortured so much. And very few would have survived it, much less do what you tell me he did today. I do not know what happened, or what exactly was done to him. But I know this: What was done was terrible indeed, and it will have cost him dearly." He turned back to T'lon and met his eyes. "I will not take your coin for this healing, Warrior T'lon. Citizen G'kar has paid enough for me."

"As you wish." T'lon bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I trust you will take dinner with me though, before you go?"

"I can do that." G'vak nodded. He glanced at a clock. "Perhaps you might make it, while I collect the medicines you need and write down the instructions." T'lon smiled, finished his drink, then rose to see what was in his kitchen that might be edible.

_**Author's Note: **Now that G'kar is all patched up...there's still a long road ahead of them.  
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_I have no idea what Narn healers are like, or what medicines they have. So I went for someone with the usual basic medicines and remedies, and a pragmatic individual, because that seems to me the type of person T'lon would like, as straightforward as he is. _


	4. Chapter 4: Restless Nights

**Chapter ****Four:****Restless ****Nights**

G'vak left a little over an hour later. T'lon saw he healer off, then returned to his bedroom. He changed into a sleeping garment, then dug out the little used extra bedding he'd started keeping some time ago for guests and refugees. He considered trying to fit the spare sleeping pallet in his bedroom, then decided against it. He was a light sleeper by nature, and had trained himself to wake whenever needed. It would be more comfortable in the front room of his home, and less awkward when G'kar awoke.

He arranged the bedding to his liking, then returned to check on G'kar. He checked the schedule G'vak had written for him, and saw that it would be another hour or so before G'kar needed his next dose of medication. Time enough for him to inspect the damage to G'kar's things then.

The shirt was rags, and he consigned it to trash without second thought. The trousers were in better condition, but they stunk with blood and sweat and grime, and worse. He had a sneaking suspicion G'kar had worn them for the entirety of his captivity, if not longer. He remembered his own revulsion to the clothing he had worn during his brief capture by the alien race, then checked the size for future reference and threw the pants after the shirt.

The boots were battered, worn, and in need of some reinforcement. They were also in better condition than either of the other articles of clothing. But they needed to be cleaned and repaired. T'lon considered. He was no stranger to cleaning leather and metal. His own boots could do with a bit of work. And he'd cleaned his own clothing of worse than what was on G'kar's boots. Besides…getting new pants and shirts was easy. Finding a good pair of boots was, in his experience, much more difficult. He set the boots aside to work on later. It would do him good to have something to occupy his time, if he was to remain here with G'kar.

Fortunately, he had plenty of food available. Most of it was dried, or preserved, or meant to be saved for long periods of time, but that was hardly a problem. He had a good stock of both clean water and wine as well.

He recalled G'vak's warning about giving G'kar bland and easy foods for a time, so his abused and starved body could absorb them more easily. A quick check revealed he had plenty of gruel. It packed away in small sealed packets, but once heated in water, it would become soft enough. He even had something he'd brought from Babylon 5, a type of gruel called 'oatmeal' that had fruit in it. Doctor Franklin had given it to him while he was recovering from his own captivity, and he'd liked it enough to stockpile it here as well.

A grim smile crossed his face. He doubted G'kar would want to eat gruel for long. He sorted through a few other things that he thought might suit G'vak's requirements and G'kar's tastes, then returned to give G'kar his next dose of medication.

G'kar hadn't moved since he had last tended to him. He gave the wounded Narn his next dose of pain and sleeping medication, glad that G'vak had measured out the dosages for him. Then he marked it on the chart G'vak had written out for him, took note of the fact that G'kar would need his bandages changed in another seven hours, and decided to retire for the night. It had been a long day, and he'd had no sleep the night before. He ached with exhaustion. He arranged himself on his pallet, composed his mind to wake him seven hours later, or if there was any disturbance, and drifted off into slumber.

He woke in darkness, startled out of his sleep. His mind told him he'd only been asleep for about 5 hours. He was shaking his head, trying to figure out why he was awake, when a low moan caught his attention. G'kar.

He rolled off his pallet and to his feet, then rushed into the other room, ordering the lights to half lighting as he did.

G'kar lay in the bed. His entire body was jerking, twitching against the splints, his head pressed back against the pillows. T'lon was no stranger to nightmares, or to other people having them. He considered a moment, then threw himself over the bed, catching G'kar's head with his hands, while his elbows pinned the other's shoulders as gently as he could. "G'kar. You are safe. It is T'lon. You are safe."

G'kar twisted again. T'lon scowled in concern. It almost felt as if G'kar was having convulsions. "G'kar." The fallen Narn gave no sign that he could hear him at all.

He was about to emergency call G'vak when G'kar stiffened against his hands. His back and shoulders arched against the bedding, head pressing the pillow flat, and he screamed.

The scream tore through the room, and through T'lon's soul, a long drawn out howl of absolute agony, of torture so great it was unbearable. It was the sound of a soul damned and tormented beyond any form of endurance. The sheer anguish of it drove him back as G'kar's body went limp. He fell against the wall, gasping, as G'kar collapsed back into complete unconsciousness.

T'lon took a moment to get his breathing under control, then returned to G'kar's side. G'kar was quiet once more, the only sign of his outburst the rumpled bedding and the sweat that dampened his bandages. And the faint lines of anguish that still marked his brow.

T'lon swallowed hard. That scream...that was no sound that should have come from a living throat, and for it to have come from G'kar...he did not want to know what had been done to G'kar to make him scream like that.

He was too awake to return to sleep, and had no desire to sleep while that scream still echoed in his ears. He considered a moment, then set to changing G'kar's bandages, since they were sweat-damp and most likely needed it. The work and focus required steadied him, calmed the adrenalin that had poured into his system when G'kar had screamed. He finished with the last bandages, then dosed G'kar with the medicines he needed, covered him with the sheets, and retired to the other room.

He was calm enough that a few moments of quiet thought were enough to allow him to sink back towards sleep. Still his rest for the remainder of the night was uneasy, filled with disquieting dreams and memories of some of his own war experiences.

He woke early and fixed himself a light breakfast. A check on G'kar revealed he was still peacefully unconscious. T'lon administered a dose of the nutrient medication and re-hydrating solution then left the wounded figure to his rest.

He called G'vak, gave him an update and received a reassurance that he was doing things correctly. He did not tell the healer how G'kar had screamed. He did not think G'kar would want anyone to know. They spoke for a while, then he signed off.

He filled some time with composing a guarded message to Babylon 5, for Deleen and Sheridan and Ivanova, to tell them G'kar had lived and would continue to do so. He spent some time after that searching on the planet network for news. It appeared the Centauri had indeed left Narn. In fact, there was little else to read about. The Centauri were gone, and Narns were even now moving in on the abandoned government offices, looting and destroying them. There was a little talk of a government being established, but few of his people were level-headed enough to care about that in the first heady flush of freedom.

There was, as expected, some uproar over where G'kar was. It was widely known that he had survived. He was being hailed as a hero, as the conqueror of the Centauri. People were calling for him to step forward and lead the Narn world. Others were wondering where he had disappeared to. T'lon smiled grimly. If no one knew where he had gone, that was all to the good.

After that, he turned his attention to repairing G'kar's battered boots. It required four thorough washings before he stopped smelling blood and filth on them. From there, he cleaned them with leather oil to keep them supple and comfortable, and began to work on repairing the scuffs and other damage that the boots had acquired. The task was as absorbing as working on his armor usually was. He stopped to eat and tend to his patient, then returned to his tasks. Night was falling by the time he felt satisfied with the work he had done.

In the wake of a day of quiet work, he found it harder to sleep. Besides, a part of him was poised, waiting for any signs that G'kar's tortured nightmares had returned. G'kar had been a little restless during the day, but nothing like the night before. He sincerely hoped he would not have to hear G'kar's scream again.

Finally, near midnight, he gave up the battle for sleep and took himself into G'kar's room. G'kar lay quietly. T'lon watched him for a while, then settled into a chair. He felt better, positioned to guard G'kar. He could not protect G'kar from nightmares, but he could protect him from everything else.

He hoped G'kar would sense his presence and rest more peacefully. He had noticed that G'kar had a curious awareness of the universe. He had spoken once or twice of knowing things. The fact that he had once been jailed for psychically attacking Mollari had often caused T'lon to wonder if G'kar did in fact possess the telepathic powers that had vanished from Narn so long ago. But if he did, then G'kar had never announced it. And he had never asked.

Eventually he slept a little, curled uncomfortably in the chair by the door, his sword sheathed by his knee.

He passed the following day doing little tasks, moving his scant living room furniture so he could do some basic physical training. The exercise relieved some of his pent up frustration, helped him relax. Still, he was acutely aware of the deadline coming ever closer, when he would administer the last of the sleeping medication.

Soon, G'kar would awaken. T'lon wondered what he would see in G'kar's eye when he did wake. The fever had faded over the past two days of care. G'kar's wounds were healing as well as could be expected. But still...

Whatever had been done, he wondered if G'kar had truly come through it sane. He did not see any way that the Narn could have come through it undamaged mentally. The scream of that first night alone argued against it. He wondered if the Narn who woke would be the one he had recognized on the station. True, G'kar had been sensible just before his collapse, but there was no surety it would remain true.

He administered the last dose of sleeping medication just before dinner, changed the bandages, and got his food. It was nowhere near his usual resting time, but he still allowed himself to settle into a light doze after eating. Neither he nor G'vak was sure when exactly G'kar would wake. He was to administer the muscle relaxant eight hours after the last dose of sleep medication, but beyond that, they were only guessing.

He woke once, to a brief spate of restlessness from G'kar, then dozed again until his internal alarm woke him to administer the muscle relaxant. G'kar was quiet, still deeply asleep, and for that he was grateful. He injected the dosage G'vak had prescribed, then settled back to wait.

It was up to G'kar now.

**_Author's Note: _**_Next chapter...G'kar awakens._


End file.
